Echoes
by Minmei
Summary: [post S2] The echoes of the True Wind Rune are inescapable. As they drive one young man to madness, he finds himself faced with choices. What choice will you make today, Luc? [Somewhat dark. Brief S4 spoiler.]


Though he had spent many hours in that room, all alone, he continued to dread the silence...the silence with which he had become fully acquainted.

He dreaded it because that was when it was at full force...the voice echoing inside his very soul. It came from the rune he bore, serving no purpose except to torment him with its desires. It wasn't enough he knew the truth behind his existence, but the voice of the True Wind Rune was a permanent side effect.

Of course, the voice never spoke actual words. It simply transmitted messages to him in the form of visions. But these images were so vivid that they filled him with nothing but doubt and apprehension.

_Not again..._ he thought, pressing a hand to his forehead. _Stop it..._

_Just...get out of my head..._

No matter how much he threw himself into his lessons or work, it would always return and drown out every other voice he had retained through his encounters with others. It always reminded him that, in spite of all his participation, he was all alone when it came to the rune.

_No...don't show me. I don't...I don't want to see..._

But there it was again--a cold, lonely world, ruled completely by Order. There was no contrast, no conflict, no happiness, and no future…and it was a vision a thousand times more frightening than the bloodiest war. He knew what it meant-

The fate of the world had been determined.

Lady Leknaat, his mentor, often spoke of the future. For some reason, he was never quite as scared by listening to her, perhaps because she had a much brighter outlook on things, and often placed her hope in the hands of humans. She seemed to believe that humans could change their own destiny.

Luc could only shake his head and resentfully ponder. It was no wonder she could be so positive. After all, she didn't have the lasting echoes of a True Rune's wish resounding in her soul, despite being a rune bearer herself. He envied her in that way. It was certain that any True Rune bearer led a difficult life, but at least the rune's desires and memories could lay dormant for a while. Luc was not so lucky.

He buried his face in his hands, feeling the rune push the wave of memories upon him.

"I don't care, I don't _care_..." he declared aggressively, the despair mixing in from time to time. "Just...leave me alone. Don't show me. I don't want to know. Just stop it...please...stop it..."

But pleading with the rune proved futile, as it always did. The voice never went away, nor did it show signs of backing off. In most situations, runes chose their masters. And as with regular runes, True Runes could also be removed, though sometimes the process involved more artificial methods. Luc once heard a tale about a man who forcibly removed part of his arm in order to abandon the power of a deadly True Rune. But bearing the rune was not necessarily a permanent thing; it was always possible to live what was left of a normal life. In Luc's case, however, it would never happen. He was an experiment gone horribly wrong--a clone of Hikusaak's whose soul had become entwined with the rune he'd been designed to hold. There was a way to discard the rune, but doing so meant the end of his life.

Still...

With the echoes refusing to cease, the thought of removing the rune grew more appealing by the day. Why shouldn't he be released from the misery? Luc didn't know much about life, but he knew it was all about choices. It was also about experiencing love and warmth and happiness. Luc knew he would never get to have such things…but he still had choices.

What sort of choice could he make today? That was no mystery. Such choices had presented themselves to him many years ago, long before his mentor had rescued him from that cage in Harmonia. But at that point, he had no means of carrying out the choice he desired. Aside from the fact that he lacked the tools, he was constantly being monitored by those who only cared about his existence until they could undo the failure of the experiment. He had to laugh at those fools. Hadn't they known the solution was so simple?

The solution…the remedy…the method to right all wrongs.

At the request of Lady Leknaat, Luc offered his services to an assembled force whenever an evil threat arose, but he never quite made friends. He was familiar with others, but often distant. He did not consider this a problem, though there were times that witnessing friendship between others left him with a sense of sadness. But he wasn't sad due to his inability to make friends. He just knew that no matter how many friends he made, and no matter how many people got close, he was forever alone in his struggle.

Still, no matter how much he would push others away, there were a few who took a liking to him. They would go out of their way to greet him, and even invite him to some sort of gathering. He remembered a girl named Eilie, someone who occasionally had issues with her older sister. Sometimes it was embarrassment at her sister's shameless behavior, other times, it was an inferiority complex. After all, Eilie's charms only went so far, or so she believed. But aside from charms, Luc could relate to the inferiority part. To be cast away due to what one lacked in ability or being…it was no comforting feeling.

Perhaps that's why they forged what was considered by Luc's standards a friendship. Inferiority was common ground, and although it was not on the level of what Luc felt, it was still nice to relate to someone…if only for a fleeting moment. It seemed to impact Eilie as well, for the night before everyone returned home to their families, she stopped by his place. "I want you to have something to remember me by," she had said, presenting to him one of her performer knives. Luc was stunned, eyeing the item as though it were a five-legged man with spore clouds rising from his kneecaps at musical intervals, and he could only think of one thing to say. It was okay he didn't get her anything, she had replied back. She then admitted--tactlessly--to needing new knives, but she didn't want to waste the old ones. It didn't bother Luc in the least. He had never expected anything of their friendship.

When he returned to Lady Leknaat's tower, he did feel a slight void from the parting of friends. This was something that could have easily been remedied, however. Eilie told him where she and her family were traveling, so Luc had every opportunity to teleport to a nearby location and see them. He had a choice…and he chose to keep to himself, as he always did.

At the present, he was faced with another choice, an old, familiar choice. But this time, he had the means to carry it out.

He had been holding it for some time. In fact, he often did whenever he remembered it was there. The sharp object protruded from the sleeve of his magician's robe as he bent his arm up. He stared at the blade for what seemed an eternity, studying its years of wear. How much time had passed before Eilie decided she had no more use for it? Now it was a worthless item, not even good enough for display. Only the knife was fortunate in that respect; nothing would bind it to this earth. At least, when discarded, it would be allowed to go gracefully, and not be locked away like some rabid creature or vile criminal.

Slowly wandering across the room, Luc transferred the blade over to his other hand, feeling its heft. Long, slender, and double-edged, it was not too heavy. Luc wondered if it even was strong enough to do the job. Of course, seeing Eilie take down an enemy on more than one occasion was all the proof he needed.

The rune's voice continued rolling around in his mind, only feeding his desire to make the choice. Without thinking, he began to caress his open hand with the blade as if to soothe it. Soon, his eyes shifted from the silvery weapon to the patch of flesh that rested south of it, mere inches away. It wouldn't take much to finish the task, just a bit of strength. He couldn't help but to entertain the idea; there he stood, possessing the knowledge, the tool…not to mention the choice.

However, he knew it was pointless. Aside from its ineffectiveness, he was sure he would be found before any real damage had been done, healed, then reprimanded for his idiocy and cowardice. After all, that was Lady Leknaat for you--kind, yet brutally honest at times. He'd probably find some humor in that, had the dark scenario not involved him directly.

But there were other ways, other methods that had proven effective...or so he'd heard. Lightly balancing the bulk of the blade on his left palm, he repositioned his other palm beneath the handle and reclaimed his grip, completely redirecting the tip so that it faced his chest. Could he do it? Could he really?

He remembered fighting against soldiers from both the Scarlet Moon Empire and Highland Kingdom. A few times, he'd had a close call, receiving a rather painful injury. It was frightening and unexpected, but anyone who engaged in combat long ago made the decision to endure that way of life. Besides that, the wounds themselves were not as horrible as he'd first believed. He imagined that wounding himself now wouldn't be much different. A poor justification, but if he was to die, he didn't want to experience even more pain than he absolutely had to.

Of course...one quick stab, deeply invading the tissue...hopefully he would be dead long before anyone found him. He didn't care what they would think just as long as he was free. And he could do it...he could do it. He hadn't had much experience handling sharp weapons in combat, but it wouldn't take much strength or effort to pierce flesh at close range, especially when unguarded, unprotected.

Yes, he could do it.

He had the resolve.

…So why was he trembling?

_Coward..._

The word struck him, and he imagined it coming from the mouth of his mentor. He could see her, staring at him in disappointment, which was a strange thing, given the woman's obstructed vision. Beyond her, he could see a crowd with similar expressions, several pointing at him as though he were a grotesque spectacle to behold. All around, the voice of the True Wind Rune resounded with laughter, accompanying the crowd in their scorn.

_I'm...not...a...**coward**_, Luc insisted silently, shutting his eyes hard. Still shaking like mad, he pulled the blade to him, arm muscles contracting to their most tense point. He felt the tip poke his skin through the robe, and the fear, overwhelming and discouraging, finally drew him back. With a stuttering moan, he carefully lowered the knife, returning the blade to the soft grip of his hot, clammy palm.

It wasn't enough. Not even the physical preparation could convince him to do it.

_I **am**…a coward…_

What was that saying he'd often heard uttered by others? 'To add insult to injury…' Perhaps he was taking it a bit literally, but he couldn't help but apply the phrase to his own life at that moment. For all that he had suffered, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't kill himself, at least not in such a violent way. Yet living meant that many more years of sadness and anguish awaited him. It felt as though fate were laughing at him, as though God were laughing at him. He didn't know how much more his heart could take.

His _heart_?

What was he _thinking_? Since when did a pathetic collection of human components possess a heart? He had been artificially constructed, and by humans, no less. What merciful deity would condescend to provide him the most basic of human luxuries? There was none.

The tears stung his eyes hard, quick and relentless. He turned his head, throwing his right shoulder into the smooth stone wall, trying hard to muffle his miserable weeping.

He was not human, and he was not normal. He was simply made to appear to be such things.

_My existence is a **lie**_, he thought as the tears spilled down his face. Wise men often said that it was better knowing the truth in any situation, because the truth would only hurt once. They could not have been more wrong in his case.

What he wouldn't give to be his brother right now, the spoiled, pampered bishop who knew nothing of his own origin and likely never would. Bishop Sasarai, who achieved his position so easily despite his young age. And why? Why was _he_ chosen? Because he _wasn't_ a defect? Because he made it through the experiment without any complications?

It filled Luc with a growing rage. He couldn't help but feel jealous, but at the same time, he felt sorry for his blissfully ignorant brother. After all, they were truly in the same boat, and it was all thanks to one's hunger for power. If only Hikusaak hadn't made it his quest to gather the 27 True Runes. If only he hadn't chosen to deposit them in genetically engineered beings worth even less than the orb casing from which they were conceived. If only Harmonia hadn't condoned such actions, whether or not they were fully cognizant of the reasons. If only…if _only_…

The blade slicing his flesh threw Luc out of his dark musings, and he dropped the knife with a gasping, painful scream. He stepped back with upturned hands, fingers crooked and now painting themselves with crimson. The wounds also covered the palm the blade had rested against not a moment ago. It was then Luc realized that he must have been clutching the sharp steel out of anger.

"Oh my God," Luc said in horror, face contorting, hands now shaking with fright. "I could've…I could've…I _almost_…"

"Luc…?"

The young magician looked up to see a familiar presence. Lady Leknaat was entering the room, and though it was hard to read her feelings at times, there was unmistakable concern on her face.

"What are you…?" Leknaat drew closer to her distraught pupil. Though she was blind, many years invested in training her other senses allowed her to cross the room with ease. "I smell blood. What happened?"

Somewhat embarrassed to have been found in this state, Luc moved his eyes between his wound and the red-stained knife that was at his feet. "Um…I…I was…trying to move Eilie's knife," he explained shakily. "I accidentally tr-tripped on something and the knife slipped and I tried to catch it with my hands and…and…"

"Luc, you should know better than to try to grab something dangerous like that," the woman scolded, but her tone grew lighter. "I'm glad you're okay. Give me your hands."

"Uh…" The teenager hesitated, but brought his injured hands forward.

Leknaat did the same, perpendicularly placing her palms on the opposite edges of his hands. An incantation escaped her lips a moment later, and a soft blue light began to surround their four hands.

Luc felt the throbbing pain gradually ease, and for a moment, he was disappointed…as it had only been the physical pain that dissipated. Still, he couldn't help but mumble some expression of gratitude. "Th…thanks."

"Of course," Leknaat said. She then showed him a tiny smile. "This reminds me of something long ago…when you first came to the Magician's Island. Do you remember? You picked up my crystal ball and were trying to examine it, as any curious child would…but then you dropped and shattered it. As I recall, you hurt yourself trying to pick up the pieces."

_I know that story, all right_, Luc thought bitterly, turning his gaze downward. A stale tear slid down his cheek. _Story of my life._ _No matter how many times I try to make sense of things, they…_

"I scolded you then as well," the woman continued, "but to be honest, I was a little angrier with myself for leaving you alone like that, even for a minute. I…don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, Luc." It was silent as the blue light faded, and then Leknaat pushed the young man's hands back slightly before carefully releasing them. "There. You'll probably have a bit of scarring, but at least--"

"--now the wounds are sealed," Luc said with her.

"You do remember," Leknaat remarked.

"I…remember a lot of things," he told her. "Even things I'd rather not remember…"

The woman's eyes slowly opened, and though she was incapable of gazing into his, she did her best to convey her sympathy. "Luc…are you still tormented by the truth you learned in Harmonia?"

"I try not to think about it," he replied quickly, his tone strained.

"Well…it's all right if you do. The truth can be difficult at times, but it's something we all have to deal with eventually. But at least here you have the freedom to deal with it, instead of being denied that right in some Harmonian cell…all because of a power you possess…" She sighed. "Speaking of which, it seems that history is repeating itself."

"What do you mean?"

"A young girl with exceptional magical ability is being kept under close watch by the Harmonian leaders. Because of her power, they want to raise her without the influences of a normal life…and use her as just another magical weapon when the time calls for it."

Though the girl's situation was not exactly as his was, the similarities were great enough that Luc felt drawn to her. "That's…that's terrible."

"It is," Leknaat said in agreement. "Her skill may improve greatly, but the sacrifices she'll be forced to make, the normal life she'll be robbed of… I suppose when leaders lust for power, a child's happiness is only worthless."

"Yes…"

"Anyway, will you be all right now?"

The young man looked up at his mentor and, to an extent, adoptive mother, whose expression requested some kind of relief. He felt compelled to give it to her, because it was the proper thing to do. "Um…yeah. Thanks…for everything. I'll be careful next time. I promise."

Leknaat brought her head down, closing her eyes. "That's good to hear." Out of habit, she lifted a hand to his face, but something stopped her. "Wh-what?"

Luc's grip was firm on her wrist. "Lady Leknaat," he started, eyeing the manicured hand that was inches away from his tear-stained face, "I'm no longer a child. Not to be rude, but could you please remember that?"

"Oh…" The woman relented to the restricting hold, and she lowered her hand as he released her. "Of course," she said, her smile short and wistful. "I sometimes forget that you're growing up. But…you'll always be the same…in my eyes…" She then left his side, a somewhat somber air about her as she walked away.

When she was gone, Luc reached down and retrieved the knife. He wouldn't devote another thought to the painful act for a while. After all, he certainly didn't want to go that way.

Still, there was no way he could endure the voice of the True Wind Rune for eternity. And because death was the only way to escape this curse, he needed to at least consider it.

No.

It had nothing to do with death. There was something else, and it was now fueling his desire to _live_...or at least live long enough to bring about this end.

As dark as his thoughts had been in previous moments, something stronger was taking residence in the deepest part of him...despair, rage...and a need for revenge. Revenge against his human creators...against the rune that tormented him continuously...against the world that never truly saved him from his fate.

It would not be easy, and it would not be quickly done.

But…

Luc's eyes narrowed as he continued to entertain the notion, and the echoes of the True Wind Rune only grew quieter. Perhaps, for all its wishing and desiring, it was aware the young man had a plan. Luc didn't know, but he wasn't too concerned. The rune's objection, or even lack thereof, would only encourage--even become justification for--the destructive behavior. Luc wanted revenge…and he wanted it on a grand scale. At present, it seemed impossible, but he had a choice; he chose to see the plan through. And the girl of whom Leknaat spoke…Luc knew that she would somehow end up playing a key role.

Luc brought his head down, his own thoughts and desires for once overwhelming those of the True Wind Rune. Fueled greatly by a broken heart, his ideas were few and incomplete, but became more elaborate and twisted with each passing minute. This time, he could do it. This time, he had the resolve. After all, his death was of no consequence; it could only bring about long awaited release. For a long time, he stood there, mulling over the plot that was sure to bring destruction to those most deserving.

And when he finished, he raised his head and did the one thing he hadn't done in what felt like ages--

Luc _smiled_.


End file.
